


Songs Reach Farther than Prayers

by Ominousity



Series: Hope County's Red Strings of Fate [1]
Category: Far Cry 5
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Canon-Typical Violence, Denial of Feelings, Joseph likes to stare at the Deputy, Let's be honest, M/M, Not Beta Read, Religious Cults, Sexual Content, Sexual Tension, The Deputy's name is Rook, complicated feelings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-23
Updated: 2021-02-17
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:29:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,186
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27158636
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ominousity/pseuds/Ominousity
Summary: There's a unique melody imprinted in your mind that is only shared with your soulmate.His voice may enthrall those around him but Joseph Seed is no songbird. No, Joseph Seed is a bird of prey.
Relationships: Deputy | Judge/Joseph Seed, Male Deputy | Judge/Joseph Seed
Series: Hope County's Red Strings of Fate [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1982393
Comments: 7
Kudos: 52





	1. can you cage a bird of prey?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This only exists because the Seeds have ruined me, and I still can't get them out of my mind even though it's been over two years. Oh boi, here we go.

Bird cages. Dozens of bird cages. White, rusted and hanging from twined rope. They hang low from the rafters. Low enough that Rook can see that they’re empty, but high enough where they’re out of his reach.

They hold no songbirds, not even feathers, no traces of what could have been. Nothing but dozens of empty cages, and Rook is suddenly hit with an overwhelming sense of longing. An ache that lingers deep within his very core, dragged to the surface by the absent of their melodies. A home for small songbirds, but no songs to be sung.

Instead Joseph is speaking to his followers.

“Something is coming. You can feel it, can’t you? That we are creeping towards the edge.”

His voice fills the church. Fills the cages, and makes them sway the slightest bit back and forth. It soothes the ache in Rook’s chest, but this startles Rook, makes his tongue heavy and his mouth dry. Makes him feel like he’s interrupting. Like he, and the Sheriff, and the Marshal, should all turn back and leave. Instead Rook watches the empty cages sway above him, above the cultists, above Joseph Seed.

“And there will be a reckoning. That is why we started the Project. Because we know what happens next.”

His voice may enthrall those around him, but Joseph Seed is no songbird. No, Joseph Seed is a bird of prey. A man who gouged out the eyes of another with his bare hands. A predator with a presence that commands attention, with claws that can tear into flesh, and with a voice that can ensnare the most vulnerable of minds.

Joseph stands tall, taller than Rook, on top of a raised platform and is raising his hands high. High enough that Rook thinks he would be able to brush his fingers against the peeling white paint that clings to the undersides of the rusted tiny cages. If only he stood – _by Joseph’s side_ – up top of that platform.

The very sight of Joseph in the flesh is captivating. Rook tries to focus, tries to concentrate on the words Joseph is saying, but the cadence of his voice is lulling Rook into a false sense of security. He’s too taken by the cages, too taken by Joseph’s melodious timbre. All Rook can think about is how he’d like to fill these empty cages with the rhythmic patterns that spill pass Joseph’s lips, so he wouldn’t have to linger on the way that it twists his insides and rattles his very being.

“Joseph Seed! I have a warrant issued for your arrest on the suspicion of kidnapping with the intent to harm!”

And just like that the spell is broken and Rook is gripping the cuffs in his hand that much tighter, pressing them into the flesh of his palm until it hurts.

Burke’s bark is jarring in the worst of ways. Grating and too rough. A voice that would butcher the delicate song that rests within Rook’s soul, the melodious binding he shares with – _his soulmate_ – another.

Burke continues loud and harsh, and Joseph’s followers shout back louder. An uproar, that Whitehorse tries to deescalate but he’s failing to control. An uproar which is just as quickly stopped, as it began, by a few words from Joseph Seed.

“God will not let them take me,” Joseph says with such conviction that Rook is inclined – _to believe_ – to consider the truth behind his words.

Rook’s focus is back on Joseph, as he moves forward off the platform. Moves forward towards Burke, moves forward towards Whitehorse, moves forward towards Rook.

Joseph is looking right at him, gaze heavy, and Rook feels exposed like his skin is being rubbed raw. Joseph is reaching forward, arms out, close enough for Rook – _to_ _easily_ _touch_ – to easily cuff. There’s a rosary hanging from his left hand, swaying just as softly as the bird cages above.

“Rook, put the cuffs on him!”

In the end, Rook grasps Joseph’s wrists and places the cuffs on him. In the end, Rook is steering Joseph out the door with a firm grip on his shoulder. In the end, Joseph seed is being hauled into the helicopter and all hell breaks loose.

The helicopter is spiralling down, and Rook is clutching the ceiling for dear life for some sort of support for his large frame. He’s panicking and it’s so loud. The blades are screeching, and Burke is yelling, and Hudson is crying, and Pratt is praying, and Joseph is s–

Rook’s vision swims. He’s suddenly upside-down, and his arms are dangling by his head. He notices Burke unconscious, and then sees the headset beside him swaying. Gently swaying back and forth.

Rook can’t hear a thing. His head is pounding from the impact and his ears are ringing, but he knows he has to move. His first instinct is to call for help, so he swings himself towards the headset. He reaches out and grabs it, but someone grabs his arm before he can pull it back.

Joseph is staring at him and his mouth is moving, and Rook can’t hear a thing but for some reason his eyes are fixed to the movement of Joseph’s lips. Joseph pauses and stops to quietly assess him, and just like that his arm is released.

The ringing in Rook’s ears begins to fade and he notices the headset swaying behind Joseph’s head, and he is once again reminded of empty bird cages, of absent songbirds, and of Joseph’s voice.

Joseph turns to speak into the headset, all while keeping his gaze locked on to Rook. The first thing Rook clearly hears is Nancy’s relief for the Father being unharmed, and then Rook is grinding his teeth to keep himself from shouting out in anger.

Joseph lets go of the headset, continuing to watch Rook through yellow tinted lenses, and suddenly Joseph’s leaning in towards him.

He’s close, so close that his breath brushes against the shell of Rook’s ear and down across the side of his neck. Traces of a phantom kiss pressed upon his flesh, and this time Rook is grinding his teeth to keep himself from moaning.

“No one is coming to save you,” Joseph whispers and pulls away.

Rook is tense, wound up tight, and Joseph leaves – _h_ _im_ – the helicopter to tend to his followers.

There’s groaning around him as Hudson and Burke wake, and screaming as the cultists start dragging Pratt away, and before he knows it Rook is running. Running from Joseph Seed.


	2. do you cower in his grasp?

It’s been weeks since the failed attempt at arresting Joseph Seed, and Rook’s been busy.

He’s hard at work helping the Resistance in their quest at trying to take back control of Hope County, but that’s been no easy task.

Rook always finds himself doing the difficult and dangerous jobs no one else in the Resistance can’t seem to manage or do themselves, and honestly he’s getting tired. As soon as he gets within their sight, people are always pointing their fingers at the next big thing that needs tackling, and Rook needs a break.

So instead of rushing off to be handed his next mission, Rook finds himself roaming the county aimlessly with no companions but Boomer to keep him company.

The quiet is nice for a change. It gives him time to relax and clear his head, as he tries to avoid thinking about anything related to the fight against Eden’s Gate. But despite his efforts, Rook’s own two feet seem to have a goal of their own.

It’s strange. But Rook always finds himself near the outskirts of Joseph’s island whenever he lets his mind wander and doesn’t give much thought to where he’s headed.

He’s back in Holland Valley, that much he can tell just by the absence of bliss in the air that comes with the Henbane and lack of forest density that’s associated with the Whitetails.

Rook’s wandering has lead him to what looks like someone’s abandoned fishing spot, with Joseph’s island being right across the water. If Rook squints just right he can make out the Project’s church just over the bend.

Rook takes up the abandoned fishing gear, despite the church in the distance being a reminder of why his so exhausted in the first place, and sets up for a nice afternoon of fishing.

“Go play. It’s break time,” Rook tells Boomer. He chokes out a startled laugh as Boomer almost knocks him over, sprinting right pass his legs to go chase a hare. Where that dog gets all that energy from he has no clue.

The fishing gear is in pretty good shape. Rook can only assume its owner must have ran into some trouble and ditched the stuff in their haste to escape. Regardless, he finds himself a pretty decent spot at the waters edge and sits himself on a withered camping chair that was, to his luck, left behind as well.

Rook watches the water ripple as he casts his first line out. The sounds of flowing water and birds singing in the distance is soothing, and it’s not too long after that Boomer is back at his side resting near his feet. When this is over, Rook thinks it’d be nice to do this again without the constant worry that plagues the back of his mind.

The line tugs, and Rook is steadily reeling it in. When he finally has it out of the water, he unhooks the fish from his line and contemplates if he should keep this one to cook later over a campfire. He’s caught some sort of trout. It’s small and its scales are golden in colour, shimmering in the sunlight.

Rook is suddenly reminded of a pair of golden coloured lenses.

He can’t seem to go one day without thinking about the Father. The man plagues his thoughts morning, noon and night. And quite frankly Rook finds its rather... distracting. He’d be more concerned about it if it wasn’t for the fact that Joseph is more than likely on the forefront of most people’s minds these days, Peggie or not.

In the end Rook decides to let the trout free, getting off his seat to kneel at the water’s edge and lets the thing go. He sits back down on his chair with a defeated sigh, which perks Boomer’s ears up in interest as he glances over at him. Rook leans over to scratch Boomer behind one of his ears a couple times, letting him know that he’s fine.

“Let’s try this again,” Rook says which Boomer responds with a grunt and Rook can’t help but grin.

This time when Rook casts the line and watches it as it gently bobs, settling over the surface of the water, he lets his mind wander to something a little more familiar and grounding. A song only known to him and his other half. It settles within him and soothes his racing thoughts, and Rook can finally truly relax.

As Rook sits and waits for his next potential catch, he quietly starts to sing.  
  


______________  
  


All too quickly Rook is back in the swing of blowing up silos and clearing out outposts. But it’s not all bad. The moments in between gives him time to breathe, and though he prefers the quiet, he does enjoy the chatter that comes from his friends. Or more specifically the unrecognizable songs they let free every once in awhile.

Songs, Rook knows, his mind will forget right away as soon as they go silent. Songs only meant to be recognized and remembered by their soulmates.

Rook is always content listening to the rhythmic melodies the people around him sing. Even if most times he can only hear them through subconscious murmurs or hums. However, he finds that he likes it best when they sing with purpose.

Sharky always sings loud and proud for anyone and everyone to hear. Much like Rook, he hasn’t found his other half yet, but that doesn’t deter him in the slightest. If anything he sings even louder because of it, and with a huge grin on his face no less.

“Gotta sing loud for them to hear me and come runnin’,” Sharky had told him once.

“Maybe you should try broadcasting over the radio,” Rook had replied jokingly.

“Hey! Now there’s an idea.”

Rook hopes that Sharky’s soulmate is just as fiery and spontaneous as the pyromaniac, but God forbid he ends up with someone just as infatuated with the flame as Sharky is. Rook doesn’t need to worry about anymore potential fire hazards running around, especially during dry season.

Nick isn’t as loud as Sharky, but sings just as much. He’s other half is none other than Kim, and boy does he not let you forget it. And now with his baby on the way, when the man isn’t singing, Nick can’t seem to talk about anything other than his soon to be family of three. Four is you count his plane.

Sometimes when Rook is over at Nick and Kim’s home for dinner, he’ll catch moments of them singing softly to each other. It makes the ache in his soul a little more prominent when he watches them, but it isn’t an unwelcoming feeling. Just a reminder that one day he too could have this.

Currently, as he moves through the brush tracking down one of the cult’s convoys, Grace is with him. Much like Rook, Grace is silent when it comes to singing around others. However, unlike Rook, Grace isn’t silent for the same reasons.

Rook is quiet because he finds his voice too rough and too low, but he still can’t help wanting to hear his song out loud once in awhile,so he only sings when he’s alone.

Grace is quiet because she doesn’t have a song to sing.

“No song for me Deputy,” she had mentioned once.

“Just a beat,” she continued. “Something you feel rather than hear.”

Overtime she explained that it was like knowing the rhythm to a song that you could clap out with your hands or stomp with your foot, but you just weren’t able to hear it. For the longest time Grace had thought it meant that her soulmate had died. Much to her relief, she later found out that it meant her soulmate was more than likely born deaf.

Right now, Rook can hear the rhythmic taping Grace thrums with her fingers against the butt of her rifle as they spot the convoy not too far in the distance down the road. The convoy consists of three white trucks, with the cult’s logo painted in black on the side of them, heading towards them. Rook prepares his own riffle and steadily aims for the first truck’s front left tire.

“We headed to the Spread Eagle after this?” Grace asks as she takes aim further down.

“Ya,” Rook says and pulls the trigger. “I’m fucking starving.”  
  


______________  
  


Rook’s vision swims with sparkling white lights. They dance in his vision, making him unable to focus. His lungs are also burning and he’s gasping for air, but that’s what happens when you’ve been practically drowned.

There are voices around him, things being said, but Rook’s head is spinning so he can’t make heads or tails of what’s going on. There’s suddenly a painfully tight grip on his shoulders and then John Seed is in his sight, though unfocused and blurry around the edges. John says something and Rook can tell he’s about to take another dip within bliss infested waters, but then John is loosening his grip and moving away.

Bright lights from a truck glare back at him, and Rook finds himself temporarily blinded before he can make out the figure that stands before them. Doesn’t really matter though, because Rook is suddenly being pushed forward.

As he gets closer, the figure begins to shift into focus, and Rook is now standing in front of Joseph Seed. Joseph takes a few steps closer, right into Rook’s personal space, and lifts his hands to place them on Rook’s shoulders. Joseph’s grip on him isn’t painful like John’s had been, but instead they steady him. It makes the world around him a little less dizzying and a little more bearable.

“Despite all that you have done,” Joseph starts, speaking low like he’s telling Rook a secret. “You are not beyond salvation.”

Though his vision has settled a bit, Rook still feels absolutely delirious. Joseph is staring right at him, blue eyes obscured by gold tinted lenses, and Rook can’t help but stare right back.

Rook doesn’t know if it’s just the bliss but Joseph is mesmerizing.

“You’re not here by accident or by chance,” Joseph says and Rook listens. “You are here by the grace of God.”

Though Rook can’t really comprehend the meaning of Joseph’s words at the moment, his voice is intoxicating. It’s so soothing that the constant ache in Rook’s chest is close to non existent, and Rook just wants to drown in it. He wants to stay in this moment forever and–

And Rook needs to try and focus. He’s high as a kite right now.

He must have shifted forward at some point, relaxing into Joseph's hold, because Joseph adjusts his grip on his shoulders a little tighter and holds him a little more upright. His thumbs are rubbing calming circles into Rook’s skin through his soaked shirt, and the gesture of it makes something shift within Rook’s core, begging to spill out.

And once again Rook is entranced by blue eyes covered in gold.

“You’ve been giving a gift.” Joseph continues. “Now it remains to be seen whether you choose to embrace it... or to cast it aside.”

Joseph is done speaking it seems, as he quietly stares at Rook, but then he’s forwarding his brows in confusion. His grip is slowly loosening from Rook’s shoulders, dragging downwards, threatening to let go. But abruptly the hands stop their descent and grab onto Rook’s upper arms painfully tight, as though Joseph’s preventing Rook from running away.

“What?” Joseph is asking him, leaning forward.

The world around them is suddenly quiet, too quiet, and Rook realizes with horror that he’d been subconsciously mumbling the words to a song. But not any song, _his_ song, and the recognition that Rook sees held within Joseph’s gaze is jarring. It pulls Rook’s breath from his lungs, and the warm thrum that had been settling within his veins is now turning to ice.

“Now I see,” Joseph is whispering and Rook suddenly feels absolutely terrified of the man that has him in his grasp.

Rook tries to step back but Joseph only pulls him closer, so Rook tries breaking free.

Rook starts twisting his body and grappling with Joseph’s grip, but Rook is still so disoriented from the bliss that he feels pathetically weak. There’s shouting coming from behind him, and more hands then he can count are joining Joseph’s to try and get him under control.

There’s a sudden sharp pain to the back of his head and everything goes black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the kudos and especially the comments! They really motivate me. :)
> 
> One last chapter after this. I haven't yet decided who to write for next in this series. John and Jacob both have a brief outline written down, but nothing too concrete or set in stone. I might post a poll afterwards. If ever you guys wanna chat with me or get sneak peeks to upcoming chapters/projects in the works, please visit my tumblr blog!
> 
> https://ominous1ty.tumblr.com/
> 
> I also create moodboards for all my works there. (Yes, there's one for this fic too!)


End file.
